


Rain is louder than tears

by GeneralWeylyn



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralWeylyn/pseuds/GeneralWeylyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during Missing Kings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain is louder than tears

It was raining. _It always was, wasn’t it?_

Had he thought about it, he could have easily been prepared for this…but who said he ever did anything for his own benefit?

_“You need to be more careful. You’ve got to take better care of yourself, Kuroh.”_

Ah, there it was... His late master’s words often rang clear in his ears, usually for support or motivation. Yet, those words, as filled with love and concern as they were each time he heard them, he could not oblige. He never could, never did. How could he?

_Why_ should he?

He once again found himself searching—anywhere, _everywhere_ —as he had for weeks, now. How long had it even been? …too long, it hurt to keep track. He was supposed to go home now.

_Was it really home if it was incomplete?_

He had been out too long, he knew. Stayed out through the previous night when Neo had declared that he _would_ come back tonight, and she would be there.

..of course, he did not come home.

His steps faltered while he briefly considered ducking into one of the few shops that remained open this late. He was wet. Soaked, rather, with water dripping heavily off the tails of his jacket and the uncomfortable _squelch_ of his socks and shoes with every step. Yes…he could step into a convenience shop for a few minutes, try to let at least a little bit of warmth return to his body..

No. He resumed walking, picking up his pace considerably. He couldn’t be selfish. He had a job, a duty, a reason…a King to find. He couldn’t give up for his own selfish reasons. He couldn’t give up, go home, and wait until the rain stopped. He couldn’t stop looking just for a warmth bath and dinner with Neko.

_…Neko._

She would already be crushed that their King hadn’t returned _again_ , he couldn’t open up that door and hear a hopeful sound, only to watch that excited loo in her eyes fall _again_ , upon seeing his lone, dejected form standing at the threshold. He couldn’t hear her quickly offer reassurances-for the both of them-that they would, they _would_ , she _knew it_. He couldn’t fail her again, not again, not now, not ever _again._

….but he was good at that, wasn’t he?

He had failed his former King with the last order he was ever given. He was supposed to rightfully judge the next Colorless King, and he’d certainly screwed that up. He was ordered to stop one rogue King (if needed), and he’d lost three Kings instead.

….but he was good at losing people, wasn’t he?

He’d often wondered if his last master had never found him, if—no, _no_ , not again—if maybe he hadn’t-no-then Shiro would not have- _no_ , _not here,_ he couldn’t.

When had he started running?

His legs trembled with each step he too, shaking with too much cold and exhaustion having seeped into his muscles. He could nearly see his breath as it came out in sharp and pained attempts to fill his too-cold lungs with air, after finally grinding his desperate running to a slippery halt. He brought a hand to his face, and- _damn,_ he couldn’t stop shaking, not _now_ -he had to keep moving. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, and there were still people milling about, _too many people_.

He hastily ducked into a darkened alley behind a few small shops, and checked the area…good. The rain had grown heavier, and brought a dense fog with it that obscured the glow of the street lamp nearby, _even better_. He let his body slump against the cold brick of the building, and exhaled a sigh that was far too shay for his liking. He _knew_ it was coming, yet clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the strangled noise that was stuck in his throat that begged to break free. His eyes burned as he shook his head, as if that would make it go away. He tried to swallow down a hiccup of a cry, after only succeeding in further plastering his dark, dripping hair to his face.

It was happening, wasn’t it?

He sucked in what air he could before he slid down to the broken pavement of the alleyway in exhalation. He kept one hand over his mouth-the rain was so loud, no one would hear him anyway-with the other planted on the ground to keep upright, his trembling be damned. His breath hitched in a last ditch effort to calm himself— _why? He knew he couldn’t stop it_ —and the last of his control crumbled with the rest of him.

….he couldn’t hold onto anyone, could he?

**Author's Note:**

> First time I've written and posted something in years, hope it didn't suck. Something about the fact that Kuroh never let himself cry or be severely upset in front of people since he was a kid, despite all he went through, sort of latched onto me and produced this sad thing. Something about forcing yourself to be strong and composed in the eyes of others for so long until you can't stop yourself from breaking apart.


End file.
